Invisible

I was having a SAHM mom moment the other day and a dear friend sent this to me-even though I didn't talk to her. Proof that someone really is watching over me as I had just said to DH that nobody sees me....................


To all of you beautiful hard-working mamas.........


It all began to make sense, the blank stares, the lack of response,
the way one of the kids will walk into the room while I'm on the
phone and ask to be taken to the store. Inside I'm thinking, "Can't
you see I'm on the phone?" Obviously not. No one can see if I'm on
the phone, or cooking, or sweeping the floor, or even standing on
my head in the corner, because no one can see me at all.

I'm invisible.
Some days I am only a pair of hands, nothing more: Can you fix
this? Can you tie this? Can you open this?

Some days I'm not a pair of hands; I'm not even a human being.

I'm a clock to ask, "What time is it?" I'm a satellite guide to
answer, "What number is the Disney Channel?"

I'm a car to order, "Right around 5:30, please."

I was certain that these were the hands that once held books and
the eyes that studied history and the mind that graduated summa cum
laude - but now they had disappeared into the peanut butter, never
to be seen again.

She's going ... she's going .... she's gone!

One night, a group of us were having dinner, celebrating the return
of a friend from England. Janice had just gotten back from a
fabulous trip, and she was going on and on about the hotel she
stayed in. I was sitting there, looking around at the others all
put together so well. It was hard not to compare and feel sorry for
myself as I looked down at my out-of-style dress; it was the only
thing I could find that was clean. My unwashed hair was pulled up
in a banana clip and I was afraid I could actually smell peanut
butter in it. I was feeling pretty pathetic, when Janice turned to
me with a beautifully wrapped package, and said, "I brought you
this." It was a book on the great cathedrals of Europe. I wasn't
exactly sure why she'd given it to me until I read her inscription:
"With admiration for the greatness of what you are building when no
one sees."

In the days ahead I would read - no, devour - the book. And I would
discover what would become for me, four life-changing truths, after
which I could pattern my work:

* No one can say who built the great cathedrals - we have no record
of their names.

* These builders gave their whole lives for a work they would never
see finished.

* They made great sacrifices and expected no credit.

* The passion of their building was fueled by their faith that the
eyes of God saw everything.

A legendary story in the book told of a rich man who came to visit
the cathedral while it was being built, and he saw a workman
carving a tiny bird on the inside of a beam. He was puzzled and
asked the man, "Why are you spending so much time carving that bird
into a beam that will be covered by the roof? No one will ever see
it." And the workman replied, "Because God sees."

I closed the book, feeling the missing piece fall into place. It
was almost as if I heard God whispering to me, "I see you. I see
the sacrifices you make every day, even when no one around you
does. No act of kindness you've done, no sequin you've sewn on, no
cupcake you've baked, is too small for me to notice and smile over.
You are building a great cathedral, but you can't see right now
what it will become."

At times, my invisibility feels like an affliction. But it is not a
disease that is erasing my life. It is the cure for the disease of
my own self-centredness. It is the antidote to my strong, stubborn
pride.

When I really think about it, I don't want my son to tell the
friend he's bringing home from college for Thanksgiving, "My mom
gets up at 4 in the morning and bakes homemade pies, and then she
hand-bastes a turkey for three hours and presses all the linens for
the table." That would mean I'd built a shrine or a monument to
myself. I just want him to want to come home. And then, if there is
anything more to say to his friend, to add, "You're gonna love it
there."

As mothers, we are building great cathedrals. We cannot see if
we're doing it right. And one day, it is very possible that the
world will marvel, not only at what we have built, but at the
beauty that has been added to the world by the sacrifices of
invisible women.

author unknown


Pass this on to all those mums out there who you know and love and
have had a part in building something great of their own.